Portrait of a Malfoy: A Lifetime Character Study
by draco-severus-mmm
Summary: This series of character studies is taken from throughout the seven books, detailing the meetings between Hermione and Lucius, taken from Hermione's POV. M for mature readers.


Hello all! Here is my latest go, another Lumione, but I'm finding that they are such an easy pairing to write, so I like putting these two together. Especially if I can stick to canon as best as possible. There is one exception to canon in this story, it is in the first section. I hope it doesn't disappoint too much because it is the only time in any of my stories that I have purposefully altered the canon to suit my story. It doesn't move far, more like it just does what the movie does, and it is all explained at the end (right at the end of the story) as to why I did it.

For references, any quote in italics has come straight out of JK Rowling's world, and as expected with these characters, I own none of them.

So without further ado, here is my latest one-shot, Portrait of a Malfoy: A Lifetime Character study.

This goes out to my friends on LJ, your friendship has been quite awesome the more I have gotten to know each of you. I hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Portrait of a Malfoy: A Lifetime Character Study<strong>

**August 1992**

Hermione could tell that Harry was absolutely furious at what he was going through. She couldn't work out exactly why though, Gilderoy Lockhart was a diamond. Suave, sophisticated, and so talented, Hermione thought that Harry should consider himself lucky that not only did Lockhart recognise him, but he was also providing Harry with the entire school list of books for him to use for the year free of charge.

However, Harry was not happy to be standing there; he was beet-red in the face, and she knew that he would dump it from his memory as soon as possible and encourage anyone else who witnessed it to do the same. He finally escaped the clutches of Lockhart's strong grip and slumped back to where she and Ron were standing, tipping his new books into Ginny's cauldron and mumbling something about buying his own. Hermione was about to say something to him but the look on Harry's face was murderous, so she thought it best to keep quiet.

As she and Ron went to wait for their own Lockhart books, she heard a drawl behind her.

"_Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?"_

Hermione knew that voice from anywhere. It belonged to Draco Malfoy, Harry and Ron's nemesis from first year. She turned half-around to keep an eye on the scene in front of her while still keeping a watch on the line.

"_Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!"_ Ginny spat back.

Hermione was too shocked to speak; Ginny _never_ talked in front of Harry, especially in his defence.

"Miss?" the salesman's voice distracted her from the scene.

She turned around with a start. "Sorry?" she said.

"Your books, Miss." He looked slightly put out.

"Oh, thank you."

As she and Ron struggling through the crowd it was clear that Draco had just made another fine retort, as Ginny was scarlet in the face and Harry was glaring pointedly at Draco, who looked trumphant.

"_Oh, it's you,"_ Ron muttered with a disgusted look on his face. _"Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"_

"_Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,"_ Draco fired back.

Hermione had to admit, Draco really did have a knack for the one-liners. Not that she would dare admit, but she had privately admired the rapid-fire comments that Draco brought to any conversation and wished that she had the same ability.

Draco continued. _"I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."_

Ron went puce, which clashed drastically with his red hair, and was about to launch into a physical attack on Draco when Arthur Weasley returned.

Arthur took one look at Draco and said, _"Ron, what are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."_

"_Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley,"_ drawled a remarkably beautiful and sinister voice. Hermione looked up to find that she had to keep craning her neck to take in the whole of the man's appearance, such was his height. In fact, she was staring at the most formidable-looking man she had ever seen. The man had a hand resting on Draco's shoulder and was glaring at Mr Weasley. It could only have been Draco's father, the resemblance to his heir was astonishing.

That wasn't what struck Hermione the most. The man had extraordinarily pale grey eyes and his long, blond hair only enhanced their pale nature, giving him a most impressionable figure.

Wow, she thought to herself. He kind of puts Gilderoy Lockhart to shame.

The mood of Mr Weasley soured as soon as the man approached. _"Lucius,"_ he said icily.

"_Busy time at the Ministry, I hear? All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"_

Before anyone could say anything, Hermione watched as Draco's father reached out with exquisite hands and plucked a very tattered book from Ginny's cauldron.

"_Obviously not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"_

Despite the nature of the man's words, Hermione could not help but notice that his voice was as smooth and as fluent as liquid chocolate. His upper-class accent was clipped and subtle that she couldn't imagine him having to raise his voice to command attention.

"_We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,"_ Arthur muttered angrily.

As she returned to the present, she saw Mr Malfoy nod in the direction of her parents and felt queasy. If Draco was anything to go by, she knew that Mr Malfoy would detest anyone such as her parents, and she couldn't help but feel incredibly protective of them. It was strange enough for her being in this world, although she was getting used to it. For her parents, who were not magical in any way, shape or form, it must have been extremely overwhelming being surrounded by magic and magical people, especially those that disliked non-magical people with such intensity.

"_Clearly. The company you keep Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."_

Mr Weasley looked murderous. He was about to hurl himself at Draco's father when a restraining hand held him back.

"Let it go, Arthur," Robert Granger, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, said quietly.

Hermione released her breath. Her father had been a captain of his school's rugger team and had also been a well-known figure in his county as a boxer. Magic or not, he was not someone who tolerated abuse in any form.

Draco's father took one look at Robert, who, with eyes narrowed and muscular arms tensing menacingly, resembled a bulldog – strong and unfazed by the noble upstart in front of him – and broke the eye contact.

"_Here girl, take your book! It's the best your father can give you!"_ Mr Malfoy thrust the tattered book back into Ginny's cauldron before retreating to his son's side.

"Come, Draco." he said gruffly. Hermione watched as the two Malfoys exited Flourish and Blotts quickly. As they reached to door, Draco looked over his shoulder and glared at the crowd that was left.

Hermione's father led Mr Weasley away with the Weasley children and herself and Harry trailing behind.

**July 1994**

The screaming was so loud that Hermione had to put special ear plugs in her ears. They were an invention that she had spotted in Zonko's Joke Shop a year ago, ones that let you choose the noise that you wanted to hear, in her case now, conversation, by tapping a wand and muttering particular phrases for each noise. Harry gave her a questioning look before shrugging his shoulders and staring at the rest of the crowd. Ron was playing fervently with his Omnioculars, in particular, getting a rise out of seeing a man picking his nose over and over again.

"Oh look," Hermione exclaimed excitedly as she read through her velvet programme. _"A display from the team mascots will precede the match."_

"_Oh, that's always worth watching,"_ Arthur Weasley said matter-of-factly. _"National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."_

Hermione continued reading through her programme, seeing that it contained numerous advertisements for various companies sponsoring the World Cup. A delightful one of a child blowing bubbles with a bubblegum that never lost its flavour was on one page, the latest Nimbus racing broom being flown by the Hollyhead Harpies – 'when we fly, we fly Nimbus' – on another.

She could hear Cornelius Fudge suffering from a distinct language barrier while trying to communicate with the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, who gibbered non-stop in his native Slavic language.

"_Harry Potter... oh, come on now, you know who he is." _Fudge was trying gallantly to get the message through.

Hermione continued reading the programme, reaching the page that gave a thorough briefing of each player and the coaches for the two teams.

Most of the Bulgarian players were quite grumpy-looking, with the surliest one of all being Viktor Krum, but there was one rather lovely-looking fellow called Vulchanov, first name Aleksandr. Dark-haired like his peers, he was smiling jovially and his eyes, a beautiful turquoise, sparkled mischievously. She read further that his mother was Bavarian, which explained the blue eyes. He was also only twenty-two.

Rather up my alley, she thought in wonder.

Minister Fudge's voice cut through her ear plugs so that it was the loudest of all the conversations around her. _"Ah, and here's Lucius!"_

Hermione knew instantly that there was only one 'Lucius' who would be up in the Top Box. Turning around, she saw three blond-haired people – two adults and one child – sidling along the second row to sit in the unoccupied seats directly behind Mr Weasley.

Oh no, she groaned inwardly. They _would_ be coming in here too.

She had already seen Lucius, Draco's father, but she could only deduce that the woman who was with them was Draco's mother. Her blonde hair was the same platinum-blonde as her fair-haired son and differing slightly from her husband's. She would have been described by Hermione as quite beautiful, if not for the look of distaste that the woman had on her face. A tragedy really, since her pointed features gave her a lovely aristocratic look. They also matched Draco's to a T, except for the mouth. Draco's mouth was his father's all the way.

How unfair, she thought to herself, that some people's genes were so perfect.

The thought of Draco's mouth drew her gaze to Draco's father, and she gazed at the sliver of pink that parted his face so beautifully. It had been two years since she had seen him, in Flourish and Blotts. His features were no different now as they were then, but she thought that _something_ might have changed. Clearly not.

Hermione watched as he spoke to the Minister, introducing his wife – _"Narcissa"_ - and his son. His graceful stature was a picture of perfection. Fudge looked to be doing everything to suck up to him, even though it was he who was Minister and Lucius as a common follower. But there was nothing common about him. His grace and nobility contrasted sharply to Fudge's paunch and Hermione felt a sudden lurch in her stomach. She hated that it was he who she could find so attractive, especially since she knew that he would be disgusted by her, both in her status and her plain looks. Her bushy hair and buck teeth could never compare with his sleek-blond hair, perfect features and piercingly grey eyes.

He turned to look around the Top Box, where his eyes laid on hers. The slight movement his head made involuntarily at the sight of her made her feel more aware of her plain-Jane looks than ever.

Thank God I didn't get the mufflers instead of the ear plugs, she thought in relief.

Her relief was minor, however. In reality, she felt that great blue mufflers over her ears couldn't make her look any worse than she already did.

Unconsciously, she tried flattening her hair. Nothing that she did, to her chagrin, would flatten it or improve it in any way.

He continued to stare at her. His eyes narrowed slightly and his lip curled in a sneer, making her feel so hideous and unworthy to be anywhere near him. She was the ugly step-sister to his wife's Cinderella. They were the perfect couple, and Draco was the perfect heir, it was so true. So, so unfair.

Hermione was reminded of the gorgeous men on the covers of her mother's romance novels and felt a desperation that she would never be worthy of any of them.

At that moment, her despair was so great that she hardly noticed the look that Draco threw them as he sat down between his parents, nor did she hear the profanities that Ron muttered under his breath about him.

**April 1996**

"_This is it,"_ Harry muttered, a look of relieved satisfaction on his face.

He opened the door and entered the room, the others following closely behind.

Hermione gave an audible gasp. A large, foreboding and eerily shadowy room as high as St Paul's Cathedral stood in front of her. Rows upon rows of dusty, glowing balls sat on shelves reaching as far as the eye could see both in height and breadth of the room.

From out of nowhere, Hermione suddenly realised what a huge mistake they were making. She didn't really ever think that Sirius would be here, but until now had still harboured a faint hope that Harry had indeed been right, and that Sirius would be found in one of the rows in the room. Now, being here, the serene calmness of the room told her and her sixth sense that he would be nowhere, and that Voldemort had used his connection with Harry's mind to his advantage.

Unfortunately, she knew that Harry wouldn't listen until it was proven to him for real. She sighed, and resigned herself to support him in his quest to 'save' Sirius.

"_You said it was row ninety-seven,"_ she whispered to him.

"_Yeah."_ He sounded distracted.

She gazed along the rows searching for a number that told her what row they were standing near. There it was, a silver number in the blue candlelight, glinting number fifty-three.

"_We need to go right, I think,"_ she whispered again.

They started walking to the right, where she saw the number on the row as being fifty-four.

Good, she thought. At least we're heading in the right direction. _"Yes, that's fifty-four..."_

"_Keep your wands ready,"_ Harry whispered to the crowd.

As they crept along the rows, Hermione kept glancing down the ends. They were so long that the ends were in total darkness. When they reached the right one, they would have to make sure that they were ready for anything to spill out into the light.

The glass orbs all had a different label in yellow containing strange titles such as 'B.C.B. to D.S. – Baghilda Bagshot' or 'R.W.P. to P.Q.J – Grünhilde Harpey'. It was interesting to see exactly what the orbs actually contained. Most of them seemed to have a smokey type of substance within them whereas some of them were so opaque that they looked like busted light bulbs.

Finally, Hermione spotted the row that they had been so desperately searching for. _"Ninety-seven!"_ she announced.

Her sixth sense did not fail her; Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"_He's right down at the end,"_ Harry said, hope still apparent in his voice. _"You can't see properly from here."_

But as they walked guardedly down the end of the row, even Harry was convinced that Sirius was not there.

She did not want to point out the obvious, but she had to say something. _"Harry?"_ she said cautiously.

"_Somewhere about... here..."_ he whispered, still daring to hope he was wrong.

Hermione felt drastically sorry for him. She knew that he would feel horribly guilty for leading them on a wild goose chase when he was so sure that he was right.

Harry kept searching around different rows, muttering things about his assurance that he should be there, while the rest of them sat guardedly in the same spot.

Finally, Ron's voice cut through the silence, utterly transfixed. _"Harry!"_

"_What?" _Harry answered roughly, after several seconds of silence.

"_Have you seen this?"_

"_What?"_

"_It's – it's got your name on."_

Hermione and Harry walked over to where Ron was standing. Hermione had to stand up tall to see what Ron was looking at but when she saw it for herself, she gasped.

"_My name?"_ Harry asked numbly.

Hermione stood back to let Harry have a look at what was there. She saw his face drain of colour as the inscription on the yellow note was read and understood.

As she saw his hand stretch out, she felt a dreaded horror inside her.

"_Harry, I don't think you should touch it,"_ she said harshly, knowing that he would and they would all pay the consequences.

"_Why not?"_ he asked sulkily. _"It's something to do with me, isn't it?"_

"_Don't Harry,"_ Neville's voice rang clear over everyone. Hermione jumped; she had forgotten Neville, Luna and Ginny were there, too. Something in his voice made her wince inwardly; Neville sounded like he seemed to know that something may happen to them all if Harry grabbed hold of the orb but didn't know exactly what. Something in his sombre expression told her that he was thinking very much along the same lines as she.

"_It's got my name on,"_ Harry persevered stubbornly.

Slowly but surely, Harry's fist grasped the glass orb. It was so silent that Hermione thought she heard the faintest choke of breath from afar, but thought that she might have been imagining things in the heat of the moment. Finally, the glass orb was nestled in Harry's palm, as all of them sat around and watched the faint swirling of smoke within.

But for a second, nothing else happened. No talking, no sudden movements, nothing.

Hermione felt greatly let down. That was until she heard the quiet drawl of someone quite familiar to them all, sending chills up her spine.

"_Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."_

The menacing stare of Lucius Malfoy was visible from the wandlight surrounding them. Hermione could see shadows moving beyond him, waiting for the next command. But her mind was only on the man in front of her.

She had not seen him for two years. She found it interesting that it was at two year intervals that she ran into him, usually in the most unfortunate of places. Her mind processed the danger that his presence posed, but there was an element of excitement as well. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time.

His eyes, boring down on Harry's, were reflecting the glass orbs surrounding them, giving an animated life of their own. His face, his slightly pointed, noble face, smirked in triumph as he had clearly achieved his task. The blond locks that were normally tied back cascaded down around his shoulders like a white waterfall, with not a hair out of place. The wand light shining on his face gave him an ethereal look. The irony of this was not lost on Hermione; the one glorious feature of the room came from the one person who wished to destroy everything that was light.

It suddenly became very clear to Hermione that she had been in a situation like this before, even if it were only in her most outrageous fantasies.

She knew that she had also grown since their previous meeting, both mentally and physically. The incident the previous year with her teeth was a blessing in disguise. After having had her teeth corrected, she had started noticing more of the boys staring at her and despite the 'Ron' problem at the Yule Ball, everyone was struck dumb as to how beautiful she had looked. In the months that followed, Viktor and her had experimented quite a lot, in between their studying in the library and his going swimming in the Great Lake, and he had been a patient teacher and a gentle lover.

Her mind had matured as well. With the confidence that Viktor invoked within her, her mind replicated their most erotic moments in full while asleep, so that her mind now created more exciting and fantastic situations, bringing her to orgasm in the most explosive ways. However, these fantasies were always with a faceless stranger.

Now, Hermione knew that she had been in a fantasy so close to the situation she was in now, that her panic-induced mind replaced the faceless stalker with that of Lucius Malfoy.

Oh God, she thought. So inappropriate, I bet he wishes for my head on the end of his wand.

He suddenly turned to face her. Her chocolate eyes locked onto his ice-like ones, and she was almost bowled over by just how sexy Lucius Malfoy was.

What a stupid time to be thinking this, she thought to herself. She knew that any woman who encountered him sexually would be a very lucky woman indeed. How unfortunate that she would never be that woman.

Suddenly, Hermione noticed a different light pass across Lucius' eyes before returning to reflecting the glass orbs. Judging by his slight movement as it occurred, she knew it was reserved for her only. More erotic thoughts passed across her mind. She knew that if she ever got out of this situation alive, her restless mind would be satiated for months. God only knew how many ways this situation could be manipulated in her mind.

_Ginny gave a gasp of horror._

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts. She suddenly realised how many Death Eaters had surrounded them. All thoughts of Lucius Malfoy's sexual prowess vanished from her mind as she brought herself back to reality to face what was to come.

At the same time, she watched as Lucius Malfoy suddenly jerked his head back to Harry.

"_To me, Potter,"_ he repeated firmly.

Hermione watched as Lucius acknowledged his fellow Death Eaters, as if only noticing them for the first time.

**February 1998**

The huge wrought-iron gates with the large 'M' over the top stood tall in front of them. Hermione did not know exactly where they were geographically, but she had heard Scabior and Greyback arguing over where to take them. Malfoy Manor seemed to be the place that Voldemort would be using as a base but she didn't expect it to be anywhere here. 'Country estate' did not strike her as being the type of establishment that Lucius Malfoy would base himself in, even if he may have owned one. She had thought him a Chelsea socialite, not a Lord or Count. In the haze of what to do next, her mind reeled back in time to a long-lost newspaper article of a few years ago: _"Lucius Malfoy... from his Wiltshire Mansion..."_. So they were in the south-east of England, probably not overly far away from Godric's Hollow.

The rattle of iron against iron brought Hermione back to the present.

She watched one of the Snatchers walking back to their pack shaking his head, exclaiming, _"How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't... blimey!"_ The Snatcher tore his hand away as if he'd been scorched.

Next thing, the iron bars contorted and manipulated themselves into two eyes, a nose and a mouth.

Hermione gasped, but before she could say anything, the gate's 'mouth' spoke.

"_State your purpose!"_ it ordered.

Greyback stepped forward. _"We've got Potter!"_ he announced proudly. _"We've captured Harry Potter!"_

The iron bars manipulated themselves back into normal gates immediately and swung open noisily.

"_Come on!"_ Greyback yelled to the Snatchers who were holding herself, Harry and Ron and they were half-dragged, half-walked up the drive towards the mansion.

In the long mile up to the house, Hermione allowed herself to have a look around. The driveway was lined on either side by ten feet hedges that only allowed a sliver of moonlight to cast down on the party. A glimpse of white as they were walked into the courtyard flitted by. On second glance, Hermione realised it was an albino peacock.

Oh wow, she thought. Such beauty, but then again, am I really surprised?

She could feel Harry struggling beside her, but she knew that he would be dealing with his own problems. After witnessing it so many times, the maniacal look that Harry developed when he was sharing Voldemort's thoughts was present, despite the nice Stinging Jinx that she had produced to aid in his protection.

When they reached the door, it suddenly opened and a woman's voice yelled, _"What is this?"_

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could just make out the slender form of Narcissa Malfoy. Her haughty looks were still very present but it looked like she was trying desperately hard to keep it there. Her appearance also looked rather plain, judging by the lack of make-up that she was wearing.

Greyback answered triumphantly, _"We're here to see He Who Must Not Be Named!"_

Hermione winced. If only they had known earlier not to used Voldemort's name. The Trace was an extremely clever idea and brought them into this sticky mess. It was Ron who had so gallantly tried many times to stop both her and Harry from using his full name.

Oh Ron, she thought distractedly. She was beyond happy that he had returned and wasn't sure how on earth she could have faced what was to potentially come without him. The nights without him were dreadful. Harry did his best to pass it as well as he could for her but she felt so empty that it was all she could do to get up in the morning, knowing that Snatchers were trailing them so efficiently.

She listened half-heartedly as Narcissa and Greyback arguing back and forth over whether or not it really was Harry that he had caught and the repercussions that would occur if it weren't him. Narcissa scrutinised Harry from close range and, passing the inspection, they found themselves being dragged over the threshold into the entrance hall.

"_My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays,"_ Narcissa said coldly. _"If this is Harry Potter, he will know."_

She is still not sure, Hermione pondered. We may get away with it.

As they passed, Hermione saw numerous portraits of blond-haired men, posing in hunting attire or in front of a vast fire place that must have been the Malfoy men throughout the generations. She couldn't help but notice that they were all remarkable-looking men. Each had their own distinct look, but all still carried that arrogant Malfoy posture.

One particular name caught her eye; Aureillius Adonis "Judas Escariot" Malfoy's portrait was distinctly different from all the others. It struck her as odd that he should be smiling in his portrait rather than frowning, as were the rest of the portraits.

Narcissa caught her eye staring at the portrait and viciously remarked, "Traitor of all traitors!" under her breath.

Interesting, she thought to herself. If I get out of this alive, I definitely must look him up.

Suddenly, they came upon a expansive room immaculately set out with a large fireplace directly opposite the door that they entered and a large Persian rug in rich red on the floor. Two beautiful arm chairs were perched either side of the fireplace and a _chaise-longue_ was along the wall. The drawing table was on the opposite side of the room to the _chaise-longue_.

What drew Hermione's attention away from all of the people in the room, however, was the magnificent glass chandelier hanging from the middle of the roof. It reminded her so much of the chandelier over the main stage of l'Opéra de Paris in The Phantom of The Opera that she was in half a mind to search for box five for the Opera ghost's presence.

"_What is this?"_ a soft drawl, albeit missing its usual sardonic note, brought Hermione out of her own imagination and looking into the eyes of the oh-so-familiar Lucius Malfoy.

Immediately, her mind reeled over the last fantasy that she had had featuring him as her leading man. It had been quite some time ago, the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding. Now she could visualise it so well, and she replayed the scenes where he placed a hand over her mouth from behind and traced patterns on her body with the other over and over again.

God, that man is sex on legs, she thought to herself.

It never entered her head that only five minutes beforehand she was thinking of how happy she was that Ron had returned to her. All she was thinking about was the numerous ways Lucius Malfoy had taken her over the edge of ecstasy. Yet, here was that man in the flesh, staring at her with such a look of loathing that it was hard to imagine that it was the same man who featured so well in her mind at such a vulnerable time.

Hermione stared back. His was a picture of rough waters; his once-beautiful locks hung limp down and around his shoulders, with not a shine reflecting off it even under the numerous torches in the room. The stubble on his face suggested that he had not touched it in days, perhaps even a week, and, despite the look of absolute disgust in his eyes, they were so blood-shot and black underneath them that it was very clear that it was with great effort to produce the look that he was trying to achieve.

As it were, the spirit tumbler in his hand was being carelessly thrown about, threatening on numerous occasions to spill its contents all over the floor.

"_They say they've got Potter," _Narcissa responded in her clipped manner. _"Draco, come here."_

Hermione was confused for a moment; why would she be calling Draco? Then she realised that there were two others in the room as well as the Malfoy patriarch and his wife. That crazy bitch, Bellatrix Lestrange and their Slytherin classmate, Draco. It was so strange to see him without Crabbe and Goyle, that he looked quite small and vulnerable. He also appeared whiter than normal, and so nervous to be asked to identify them that Hermione was wondering exactly what was going through his mind.

Serve you right, you fucking bully, she wanted to yell at him.

However, something about the way he refused to give a response made her understand what he was doing.

"_Well, boy?" _the hideous voice of Greyback was heard to say.

Hermione looked over at Lucius. What she didn't expect was to see Lucius staring straight back at her. Instead of the look of loathing that she saw before, she saw a flicker of something else as he had been caught off guard. She had seen that look somewhere in her past, sometime long before they went on the run. She had seen it two years prior to now. Of course, two years ago, the last time she had run into Lucius Malfoy, and it was the look that passed across his face then, too. For a brief moment, she saw another look before he rearranged his face into the one of disgust: desperation.

Suddenly, it became very clear to Hermione just what was going through his head. Like Draco, he didn't want this to happen. At least, not in the way it was going to happen. Lucius might have been a bully, but he was no killer. He was a genius at the Imperius Curse for a reason; it was the only curse that allowed a person to act in a manner that did not always seem against their will. They did not get hurt by it, nor did they die. When someone was under the influence of it, they were usually content to carry out the task that was asked of them.

She almost laughed out loud at the revelation. She could surmise his presence at the cemetery because Voldemort had called all of his followers to there to watch Harry die. No doubt, he, like Snape, would have had to watch a lot of people die at Voldemort's hands, more than likely numerous of their own kind. It seemed so likely that whilst he may not have repented like Snape, if Dumbledore was to be believed, that he did not always agree to how things occurred. After all, he did not actively search out Voldemort after he disappeared.

Hermione looked again at Lucius. Fatigue and inebriation was obviously affecting his decision-making, because he stole another quick glance at her. She could not mistake that look. He was silently pleading with her. She was not sure for what exactly, but before she had a chance to respond, the look was gone and he turned back towards Harry.

"_Well, Draco?"_ he asked impatiently. _"Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"_

"_I can't... I can't be sure,"_ Draco responded quietly.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

Hermione watched as Lucius pulled Draco closer to Harry.

"_Draco," _he continued, _"if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv__– __"_

"_Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy?"_ Greyback interrupted.

"_Of course not, of course not!"_ Lucius waved his tumbler dismissively, finally having achieved what it was so close to doing before and spilling its contents on the floor.

Hermione reeled. Of course, everything was so clear to her. He would feed them to the lions. He wanted to save his family from being further humiliated and possibly killed. She figured that they knew that they were only being saved from death because Voldemort still had some use for them. She did not blame Lucius for trying. She couldn't. After all, this was now a game of survival of the fittest, and whilst he had played on the wrong side initially, he just wanted to get his family out alive.

Winners write the history books. Losers know the truth.

It was this knowledge that Hermione kept close to her that made the interrogation with Bellatrix bearable, if not less painful.

**June 1998**

Harry, Hermione and Ron gradually made their way back down the stairs from the Headmaster's office and returned to the Great Hall. Harry was happily waving his wand about, testing its durability with simple spells and finally, casting a Patronus that galloped out of the Entrance Hall in delight.

At last, Voldemort was defeated, and it seemed as though they could finally have a rest. There was a great number of people surrounding Harry, who, despite his fatigue, joyfully embraced every single person who approached him to tell them his thanks at their bravery and sacrifices.

It had been such a hard-fought battle, lasting well into the night and the breaking dawn of the new morning. Hermione watched as family members who were not talking to Harry were paying their final respects to those that they lost over on the other side of the room, and others sitting on whatever house table was free; Slytherins sitting on the Hufflepuff table and Ravenclaws on the Gryffindor table.

Ron kissed her goodbye before leaving her and walking towards the rest of his family at the end of the Gryffindor table, all sitting around Fred's limp form in misery. It was Percy's desolation that caused her to feel the anguish more than any of them. He had been such a pompous prat since their fourth year, but he'd been the most distraught over losing his little brother.

Blood was always thicker than water, Hermione rused, but never did she see it so apparent except now.

She slumped at the end of the Hufflepuff table, exhausted. She felt a hand on her shoulder in support and looked up to see Luna smiling down at her. Luna didn't say anything to Hermione, nor did Hermione say anything to Luna, but it was as though they had finally been able to bridge the fine gap that had always been present between the two of them; Hermione believed so staunchly in logic, Luna believed what was necessary to believe. It seemed so stupid that she could think that such different opinions mattered. Now, gazing up into Luna's serene face, she felt all the past animosity dissolving.

"You did brilliantly, Luna," she said in admiration.

"Not so well as yourself, but I suppose it was pretty good," Luna responded modestly in her dreamy voice.

She smiled again at Hermione before moving on, no doubt comforting others with her gentle nature.

Looking around the room, Hermione's eyes lazily took in the scenes in front of her. Colin Creevey's body was off to the side of the Gryffindor table, the banner flying at half-mast behind him, gallant as he was to have fought in a battle beyond his years. His mother and father were crying silently over him, Dennis standing next to them with his head bowed. So quiet was he that it struck Hermione as odd; Dennis Creevey was not shy, and he had performed rather well for such a young student as part of Dumbledore's Army a couple of years before. She knew that in the future, he would make his parents proud for both himself and for Colin, aware of how close the brothers had been.

Neville was standing near the head table, his grandmother Augusta crying softly against his shoulder, having almost lost him at the hands of Voldemort. Neville stood tall and proud and Hermione was reminded that it had been he who had led the rebellion against Snape and indirectly, Voldemort. She knew that he would receive the Order of Merlin, be it a Second or First Class. After all, his actions proved to be the most heroic amongst all of them. She was so proud of her friend that she could barely remember the timid and forgetful boy whom she befriended on the train to Hogwarts nearly eight years before.

A flash of blond made her turn around. Searching for the source that had distracted her, she saw three blond-haired people huddled together alone up one end of the Ravenclaw table. Draco was quietly holding his mother's head against his shoulder, so similar to Neville's actions that Hermione was taken aback by Draco's gentle nature. She had never seen him like it and it was quite touching to witness. Standing alongside them was Lucius, but it certainly didn't look like him. His blond stubble was clearly visible and his thick, blond hair was hanging limply down his back. But that wasn't what made his appearance so shocking. One eye was so puffy and black that it was almost shut.

Hermione gasped. When did that happen?

She watched as Lucius muttered something to his son before taking his leave of them.

A few minutes passed as Hermione went back to lazily scoping the room when she felt the urge to visit the girls' bathrooms. As she was washing her hands, she looked into the mirror to check her appearance. The girl staring back at her was nothing like what she had thought she looked like. The last time she had been able to look in a mirror was before Christmas, when she caught a sight of herself in the fragment of Harry's two-way mirror. Even then she looked haggard and tired.

Now, the girl staring back at her had bloodshot eyes, massive bags, lank brown hair and sallow skin. Everything that had just happened – the fighting, the deaths, the fears and finally, the victory – came crashing down around her, and she felt an overwhelming need for some fresh air.

It was in the moonlit courtyard outside the Entrance Hall that she saw him.

Lucius was leaning against one of the plinths with the stone gargoyles, one foot raised against it. He appeared to be staring into the middle-background, although the light was not particularly good and she wasn't in the best position to see. The midnight air was still but she could not hear him make any sound. In fact, he was so quiet that she wondered whether he was asleep standing up, but as she moved around to get a better look, she could just make out that he had his eyes pressed tightly together and his lips firmly closed. He opened them rather abruptly and sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he relaxed.

Hermione watched him draw a cigar from the pocket of his cloak and drag it under his nose. He inhaled the aroma deeply before finally placing it between both lips. The action was so fluid that it made Hermione gasp with anticipation. Lucius then pulled what appeared to be a Zippo lighter from his other cloak pocket and lowered his head.

Hermione had always felt that there was something quite alluring about watching a smoker light a fag, even though she despised the act of smoking itself. She watched as Lucius raised his hand to stop the wind from making the task more difficult, then flick the Zippo open, where a bright blue flame emerged instantly, contrasting so much with the moonlit sky. She was reminded of her own blue flames that she carried around in a jar in her first year; clearly, Lucius had a gift for producing the same fire. It had not been an easy spell to accomplish.

As the light from the flame reflected off Lucius' bruised and battered face, it highlighted the deep welts across his face where the brutal punches had hit him. Nevertheless, underneath all of this, Hermione saw for the first time that Lucius looked remarkably at peace with the world. She had never seen this expression on him before, especially given how much pain he must be in from the bruising. When she had first met him, he always carried a haughty look of arrogance, lately, it was dejection and despair. This look of contentment was new and she felt privileged to have witnessed it.

When the cigar started smoking not long after, she watched as he flicked the Zippo closed and put it back in his pocket. He took a drag off the end of the cigar, held the smoke in his mouth for a moment before letting it go in one long, smoky haze.

Hermione was entranced as she watched him repeat the performance. Here was the man who had entered into her most erotic fantasies over the last couple of years, had performed his part exceptionally well as the intruder ready to capture her and torture her in the most pleasurable ways, and who, in reality, had fallen from grace within the Wizarding World so spectacularly. So many conflicting emotions were playing around Hermione's mind at this time that she really didn't know what to think. Instead, she continued to watch him smoke his cigar.

Lucius continued his smoking ritual again and again, until Hermione realised that she had been watching him for well over a quarter of an hour. The cigar didn't look to have burnt down far, giving the impression that no time had passed at all, until she heard the bell toll for the half hour.

Hearing this, Lucius turned abruptly around without giving Hermione any warning. He stopped as soon as he saw her staring at her but did not move. She could just make out with the little moonlight there was that he was eyeing her over, just as he had every other time that they saw each other.

Lucius broke the gaze when he stubbed out the cigar on the plinth and re-pocketed it. Hermione did not look away. Interestingly, it was the first time that she did not feel scared of him, perhaps because he did not look at her in a disgusted manner or one of utter annoyance that she felt like this, but all she knew was that he did not seem put off by her appearance. Perhaps curious, but not put out. It was this feeling that caused her to start walking towards him.

He looked back up upon hearing her footfalls on the hard courtyard cobblestones. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again almost instantly. Neither broke the eye contact. She was only a few feet away.

From this distance, Hermione could see the moonlight reflecting in Lucius' one good eye. She was reminded of the previous times that she had seen his eyes, reflecting whatever surroundings that they had around them each and every time that they saw each other. This time, it was almost black, such was the darkness of the night sky, save for a tiny speck that was the moon's reflection.

Hermione couldn't help but think how beautiful he looked right now. The moonlight reflecting off his pale head almost gave him a halo; he was breathtaking, despite his battered appearance.

He closed the distance between them in one swift movement. His cloak billowed around him as he moved, adding to the drama of his action. He stood a good foot above her, and she was again very aware of how tall he really was. If it weren't for the look on his face, she would have felt highly intimidated. As it were, he was eyeing her with curiosity.

They were silent for quite some time before Lucius broke the silence.

"You win, Miss Granger."

Hermione was unsure whether he was being serious or not. She didn't respond for a moment, wondering what exactly she should say.

"It wasn't a competition, Mr Malfoy."

He nodded his head towards her ever so slightly.

"It doesn't matter."

Again, Hermione was unsure exactly what he meant, but could only judge by the lack of sarcasm in his voice that he was being serious.

Before she had a chance to respond, he spoke again.

"Well done."

Hermione gasped. Lucius raised one eyebrow. She stared into his beautiful eye. It stared back. Nothing showed to suggest that he was joking.

They did not say anything to one another for some time. Instead, they continued to observe the other, as if seeing them for the first time. Hermione didn't know what to say, nor did she feel that Lucius did, either. It was a strange situation to have found herself in.

His words came back to her.

_Well done._

That usually only meant one thing.

Slowly, she put her hand out to him as a peace offering.

He looked at her outstretched hand, looked back into her eyes for a moment, then looked back to her hand. Hermione could sense his hesitation but did not push it. She had hardly believed that she could have acted so forthrightly herself.

Lucius slowly reached out with his own hand, but instead of grasping hers in a hand shake, she felt his soft but strong hands slowly lift her smaller one up. She gaped at him. He did not flinch. Looking back into her eyes, he lowered his head without breaking the eye contact to the back of her hand, leaving such a chaste kiss that Hermione thought that she had only imagined the contact. The tingling sensation throughout her entire body told her that she had not.

When he lowered her hand and let go, she let out the breath that she did not realise that she had been holding. His eyes flashed but this time, Hermione was able to make out the expression: determination. That was when she realised that he would fight for his family's honour, but given his action towards her, he would do it admirably.

She smiled up at him. He did not smile back but lowered his head towards her out of respect.

"Farewell, Miss Granger. May we meet again sometime."

"Goodbye, Mr Malfoy. Until next time."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

Did anyone pick it? Here it is: back in Aug 1992 Lucius and Arthur get into a punch-up at Flourish and Blotts, but here, Arthur refrains, due to Hermione's father's influence. This is why:

I don't think I've ever changed canon before in any of my stories. I've always tried to keep things as close as possible to the books, because even my earlier stories were canon up to the point of my knowing what happened in the canon HP world. Most of my stories were written before the end of the series was known and so until those points, everything was canon to the best of my knowledge. I changed this section, however, because I found that the movie was actually much more realistic than the canon. I cannot imagine Arthur Weasley pouncing on Lucius in a scuffle, and after reading this scene again in the book, it just didn't seem right that these two men would get into a fight. After all, I could never imagine Lucius getting into a scuffle, even if he didn't start it. And I certainly could not see Arthur starting one, even if he looked as though he were about to here.


End file.
